


Whispers

by Sinful_ErrorBethy



Category: Original Work
Genre: Depression, Don't Read This, I Don't Even Know, I'm Sorry, I'm seriously thinking of deleting this, Medication, Mentions of Suicide, Past Attempted Suicide, a lot of truth, i'm not okay, okay, there's some truth to this, this is way too personal, trigger warning, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 17:57:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21342370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinful_ErrorBethy/pseuds/Sinful_ErrorBethy
Summary: The whispers in her head were getting louder, turning into shouts and eventually, they were all she could hear.This is just a fic about my depression.  Don't read if you don't want to.





	Whispers

She stared at the pill bottles, knowing that she should take them. Prescriptions like Zoloft and Depakote, used to treat the the gaping hole in her heart that's she'd had since she was little. She hated taking them; they made her feel things that were unwelcome. So she had stopped taking them. Now, though, it seems like she had no other choice.

Her feelings of emptiness were only conflicted by sadness, regret, and deceit. Saying things like "I'm fine" and "Nothing's wrong" were used to cover up the fact that she wasn't okay. After all, she couldn't even _feel_ certain emotions naturally. Joy, happiness, relief... they were all faked in order to make people not worry. She hated worrying others, after all. But part of the facade would drop when speaking to her friends online. She still faked some things or acted like nothing was wrong, but she was a little more honest about everything. She didn't share everything with them, of course. She didn't want them to worry, either, even if that meant sweeping her problems under the rug.

Of course, the whispers were always there to remind her. They reminded her of her lies, her dishonesty, her pain. They told her when she fucked up, how badly she fucked up, and that nothing in the world could save her from what she just did.

They've only gotten worse lately. Saying that she was terrible for not feeling much over the death of a dog she rarely sees, but everyone else is sad about. Saying that she was heartless for brushing off a friend's break up with their significant other. Mentioning that she should feel bad for not talking to said friends for a while while she wallowed in her own self-pity and self-hatred. They told her she couldn't even off herself right; that she should've fucking kept her mouth shut when her mother asked if she was okay after swallowing those pills. But of course she didn't. She couldn't try again now, either. Not if she wanted to keep her promises, of course. They whispered to her that she was a fuck up who deserved nothing. The whispers in her head were getting louder, turning into shouts and eventually, they were all she could hear. Screeching that she wasn't worthy. That she was a terrible friend. That she couldn't even love properly. That she would never be happy.

This is exactly why she's staring at her pills now. She took the Depakote. Swallowed two. Didn't swallow more. She didn't know what would happen if she overdosed on the stuff, but she didn't want to find out. The shouting eventually lessened, and she allowed herself to cry.

Now she's trying to find out what she should do. She's used to running away from her problems. She's used to shutting down emotionally to get out of a bad or awkward situation. But she knows that won't work now. Not if she wanted to keep what she cared about... so she sat down, and she started writing.


End file.
